I sat with my mom afterward, drinking chamomile tea while staring out at the yard where I used to braid my dolls’ hair and dream about love. And I realized something: I didn’t ruin Family Day.
I saved myself from a family that mistook cruelty for comedy. My phone buzzed with texts and calls I had no intention of answering. I wasn’t angry anymore.
I was just done. I knew now that love isn’t about proving yourself to people who laugh at your pain. It’s about being chosen for who you are.
And sometimes, choosing yourself is the bravest thing you can do.
